Simon stood before Wayne, his legs all a tremble; fear mostly, mingled with a little excitement of what he hoped was about to happen.

'Mr. Watkins has told me to stay with you until you can climb this bloody rope, Applegate. So you bloody-well better get your scrawny little body up there,' cursed the Head Boy. 'If I miss my football practice, I'll shove my boot or something else up your arse!'

Simon grimaced but smiled inwardly at the thought of what Wayne had in mind to shove up his pert little bottom other than his boot. 'I'll try, Wayne. But I can't seem to get a good hold. I keep slipping down.'

Wayne moved forward and gripped the thick hawser hanging from the roof of the gym. Simon could smell the fresh sweat trickling from the bigger lad's hairy armpits as their bodies brushed together when Wayne pushed him to one side. The musty, teenage odour was unbelievably arousing and Simon desperately fought off a stiffy that was beginning to tent beneath his baggy gym shorts.

'Okay, I'll show you how it's done. Watch my feet and legs,' said Wayne, stretching his half-naked torso high, then reaching up and grasping the sweat-blackened rope in his fairly large, unbelievably strong hands.

Simon shuffled to one side to get a good frontal view of his young tutor as he raised his legs and rotated slightly, his feet crossing one on top of the other as he clamped the rope between them.

'Grip the rope like this, firmly between your feet. Then push down with your legs and at the same time pull up with your arms,' explained Wayne, as he effortlessly pulled his superb young torso higher.

Simon studied the position carefully as Wayne's muscular thighs and calves flexed and pushed down on the hawser. He noticed the thick rope sat snugly against Wayne's crotch. To the left of it, a large shorts-hidden lump, containing spunk-filled balls and cock, bulged out invitingly.

Shuffling silently to his right, a baggy tunnel of cotton cloth greeted Simon. Deep inside, a wealth of very wankable and suckable sex was clearly visible, nestling safely in its makeshift hammock. Simon thought the sight was mind-blowing, incredibly so! Adjusting his own cock while he studied the wonderful sex on display, he drifted into a sexual fantasy.

'You paying attention, Applegate!' barked the agitated Head Boy.

'Er' Yes, Wayne. Grip tightly with your feet and pull up with your arms at the same time.'

'Right. Once you're in this position, raise your legs again and then grip with your feet. Then move your hands higher and push down with your legs. At the same time, pull with your arms. Got it?'

Simon nodded, his eyes still focussed on the fine cock snaking down Wayne's leg.

Wayne jumped down from the rope, after going through the routine a third time, sadly destroying Simon's glorious vision of his delicious cock. 'Right, let's see you do it.'

Simon moved toward the swaying rope, his eyes still feasting on Wayne's bulge, which appeared to have gained in size since the demonstration. Nervously, he grasped the hawser, his hands high above his head, his almost hairless armpits streaming nervous sweat.

'Here, I'll give you a start,' said Wayne, bringing softness to his tone when he reached out for Simon's waist.

Simon almost gasped with delight. Wayne's hands were firm, strong and hot as they gripped his slender waist and easily raised him higher up the rope. His own hands trembled excitedly when he wrapped the small palms around the thickness of the hawser. How dearly he wished they wrapped around something else, wrapped around what he'd just seen slithering down Wayne's stout thigh.

Pulling with all of his might and grunting from the effort, Simon struggled to pull his body upward.

'No! No!' Wayne returned to his normal obnoxious self. 'Jesus Christ! You've got to use your legs. It's your bloody legs that does all the work.'

Simon sighed and dropped down to the floor. 'I just can't do it. I ain't strong like you, Wayne. Honest.'

'It's got nothing to do with strength. Hell, my two-year-old brother could do it! It's method and coordination of your legs and arms.'

Simon shook his head. 'Just tell Watkins that I done it.'

'What! And the next time when we're in here and you can't bloody-well do it, you make me look like a fucking idiot and a liar?'

Simon knew both of those statements were the truth but simply asked to be shown again. Wayne reluctantly obliged, giving him the reward he was secretly looking for. In fact, Simon even daringly placed his palms on those strong thighs, calves and biceps as he pretended to be familiarising himself with the correct position.

Wayne glimpsed his watch. 'Fuck you, Applegate. I've missed fifteen minutes practice already. Stop pissing about and get your scrawny little arse up this fucking rope. Right to the fucking top!' he cursed. Then, rubbing Simon's shoulder and lowering his tone, and becoming all friendly, said, 'I know you can do it, Simon.'

Simon approached the rope a second time and raised his arms high above his head. This time the helping hands pushed against his buttock cheeks. Simon's cock jarred when his thoughts moved a million miles away from rope climbing.

As plimsolled feet pressed hard together and young arm and leg muscles flexed, pulled and pushed, as if by magic Simon's body rose several feet up the swinging rope.

'Great, Simon! See, it's a piece of cake. Okay. Once more. Grip. Push. Pull.' Wayne was already sensing his imminent move from the gym to sports field and his beloved football practice.

Simon began a second attempt at raising himself another couple of feet, the thick rope pressing firmly against his virgin cock. The stimulating sensation of the rope pressing against his crotch caused his mind to wander onto sex yet again. His cock began to rise as he imagined it was Wayne's sex slipping between his thighs.

Concentration pleasantly distracted, Simon's feet lost their grip. 'Aaahh!' he yelped as he slid toward the gym floor and rubber matting.

Hands were already outstretched in case of such an emergency. Both met Simon's soft buttock cheeks when he slipped downward. To his surprise, Wayne's right palm had slipped up the leg of his shorts and settled on his buttock cheek as it held him fast. However, the left hand, to his embarrassment and delight, had slipped around the front of his shorts and had discovered his proud cock.

Wayne let Simon drop the remaining few feet to the gym floor, freeing his hands from within the shorts as he did. 'You dirty little fruit. You've got a fucking stomp on,' he growled. 'You queer, or something?'

Simon's face was indeed that of a fruit, strawberry red. 'No. It just happened. Sorry, Wayne.'

'Just happened, eh? I reckon you're a little fruit. A little faggot fruit,' Wayne accused, giving Simon a shove backward.

'Not!' defended Simon but knowing he most definitely was. Even with Wayne's verbal attack on him, he was still unable to bring his gaze and thoughts away from the bulge bursting so delightfully in the Head Boy's shorts; a bulge, by the looks of things, which was getting decidedly bigger by the second.

Wayne began to rub his cock subconsciously, causing it to jar beneath his shorts. 'I've got your number, Applegate. Pretend you can't climb a bloody rope just so's you can get some extra tuition and have a bloody good look at my cock. That it, fruit?'

Simon's face flushed brighter. A nervous snigger escaped his lips. 'You're the fruit, Wayne. The fruit and nut case,' he bravely retaliated but not knowing how he did so, or what he exactly meant by that statement.

'So you want to see my cock, do you?' Wayne grinned, tugging at his expanding shorts.

'Nope.' Simon shrugged but his mouth clearly dropped open when the Head Boy began to roll the leg of his shorts up over his thigh and toward his crotch.

'This what you want to see?' Wayne tormented, pulling seven inches of solid cock through the leg of his shorts and revealing two largish pink balls at the same time.

Simon's mouth was soon agape. This time it remained open and inviting. The tongue zipped over his drying lips and moistened them before he finally shut his mouth.

Wayne pumped his cock until it was fully erect. He moved closer to Simon. 'Touch it, then. You know you're dying to.'

Simon kept both hands safely by his side, his mouth still agape.

Wayne's tone softened, 'S'okay, Simon. I've always known that you fancied me. Why do you think I suggested to Watkins that you needed extra rope work last week?'

Simon's face had resumed a reasonable colour. He didn't believe a word of Wayne's and knew he couldn't trust him. Suspected also that if he did attempt to grab that fantastic cock and toss it off, the news would be all over the village by lunchtime and he would have to live a life of hell.

For some while, he remained silent and still, his heart racing excitedly as he studied the incredible cock. Then, unable to control the sexual urges seeping throughout his every sinew any longer, and dismissing all future problems his actions would bring, he cautiously moved forward.

Wayne watched the slim, black-haired, blue-eyed youth step pensively toward him. Dropping the leg of his shorts back over his thigh, he pushed the waistband below his balls. His cock sprang outward and upward, a hint of sticky dampness seeping from the eye.

Simon stopped in his tracks when the fantastic cock appeared, his eyes focussing on the impressive bush of pubics and incredibly stout shaft when it slapped against the youth's naked tummy.

'S'okay, Simon. No one's going to know,' reassured an increasingly aroused Wayne. Taking a step toward his charge, he gently rolled the foreskin back and forth over the sticky head of his cock. 'Come on,' he encouraged.

Simon continued toward Wayne, his body trembling slightly in anticipation of playing with his very first cock, apart from his own which he played with at least four times a day.

Close up now, Wayne rested a hand on Simon's shoulder whilst his other held his solid cock. 'Grab hold of it!' He stepped closer still, releasing his cock and pushing his pelvis toward the slender fingers.

A shaking, small palm reached forward. 'Can I kiss you?' whispered Simon as his fingers curled around the thick shaft and sampled the girth and smooth texture.

'Nah,' declined Wayne. 'Just rub it!'

'Gonna rub mine?'

'After,' promised Wayne.

Again, Simon didn't believe him, so he shoved his left hand beneath his own shorts and began tossing himself, whilst his other hand began a steady rhythm on the Head Boy's bigger cock, a cock any grown man would have been proud to possess, Simon reckoned.

'Faster, Simon. Faster!' Wayne gasped, brushing his fingers over the lad's moist lips, then gently pushing them into the mouth.

Simon allowed the fingers to toy with his tongue. They felt extremely exciting as they slipped in and out of his mouth. Rapidly, his left hand continued to work on his own cock. Awkward though it was, using the wrong hand, it still felt fantastic. Meanwhile, his right palm had increased in speed on Wayne's sex, the foreskin now flashing over the swollen pink bud, which was almost bursting with the brilliant sensitivity.

On seeing how much the Head Boy was relishing being tossed, Simon worked his hand faster still, thrashing the foreskin back and forth over the moistened head, desperate to see Wayne shoot his spunk.

'Yes!' gasped Wayne, when the palm pleasingly pummelled his prick. 'Stop! I'm gonna shoot me whack!' he suddenly called out.

Simon ceased tossing both their cocks. He looked perplexed. 'Don't you want to come, then?'

Wayne was breathing heavily. ''Course I wanna bloody come!'

Simon began the rhythm again.

'No!' snapped Wayne.

The palm stopped working once more. Simon was confused. He was also disappointed because he was so desperate to see Wayne's spunk come shooting out of that glorious shaft and shower all over him.

'Take your T-shirt off,' Wayne kind of ordered.

Without protest, Simon raised his T-shirt over his slender torso, revealing a tanned body adorned with two flat nipples, and a scrumptious navel embedded in a soft tummy.

Unexpectedly, Wayne's palms began to explore, venturing all over him, gently stroking every silken spot. Simon sighed as the palms slid seductively over his arms, chest, nipples and finally tummy.

Pushing his shorts down, Simon brought his stiff young sex into the open, the small tuft of jet-black hair shimmering above his youthful cock. Once again, Wayne's fingers unexpectedly explored, cock this time. So excited was Simon by the incredible feeling of being tossed by another youth, his spunk shot from the eye of his cock in one sensational spurt, splattering over Wayne's pubic bush and satin smooth tummy.

Simon stared down at the sticky white mess he'd created. 'Sorry,' he apologised, his face all a flush.

'Like that?' asked Wayne, a cunning grin on his face.

'Oh, yes,' sighed Simon.

'Right, you can finish me now,' said Wayne.

'Can I kiss you?' Simon pleaded again.

A crafty grin filled Wayne's face. 'Only if...' He brought both their smooth chests intimately and affectionately together. 'Only if you blow me,' he whispered into Simon's ear, his palm stroking the youth's cock again, his mouth moving teasingly close to Simon's parted lips.

A surge of uncertainty and excitement caused Simon's brain to buzz, and his whole body began to tremble. Almost panther like, he planted his mouth onto Wayne's lips and began to kiss the Head Boy frantically.

'Well?' prompted Wayne, pulling back from the passionate embrace after only a few seconds of mouth on mouth contact. 'You gonna blow me?'

'Okay,' said Simon, sinking slowly to his knees.

Wayne's cock instantly sprang back into life, already anticipating succulent lips and a soft tongue engulfing it when his charge knelt on the rubber matting beneath the rope.

Simon opened his mouth tentatively and closed his eyes when the horny Head Boy moved forward, cock held in his palm, a long strand of silver pre-come seeping from the eye as he gently tossed.

Wayne placed his palm upon Simon's crop of soft black hair. 'Open your eyes.'

'Okay,' said a still nervous Simon, slowly fluttering the lids upward, instantly taking in the feast of beautiful cock standing proud and excited before his open mouth, and waiting to be consumed.

'Go on then. Suck it!' urged Wayne, pulling Simon's lips closer to his cock.

Simon grasped the stout shaft in his right hand. He opened his mouth slowly, this time keeping his eyes wide open. Cautiously, he moved his head forward. The strand of pre-come settled on his tongue, the remainder sticking to his lips and chin. Pulling away, he wiped the back of his hand across his face before sucking the pre-come into his mouth.

'Nice?' asked Wayne, a smile beaming on his face.

Simon thought for a moment. 'S'alright.'

'Carry on then,' said Wayne. 'There's a lot thicker stuff to come yet.'

The bulbous head vanished into Simon's mouth. The texture of the bud was as smooth as silk and had an odour of fresh spunk, but also of an early morning toss. Ever so slowly, Simon allowed his tongue to encircle the defined ridge of the head. Now that he was enjoying the taste and texture of the cock, he pushed his lips lower down, taking almost half of the splendid shaft into his mouth, down as far as the fingers that tentatively held it.

For several moments, Simon worked the first three inches back and forth, all the while glimpsing up at Wayne's face, observing his blissful expression as his cock was sucked and savoured.

'More,' demanded Wayne, prizing the fingers from his cock. 'Take it all.'

Simon pushed his mouth lower down. He thought he was going to gag and quickly pulled back.

'Take it nice and slow,' suggested Wayne, his palm still pressing on the back of Simon's head to prevent his mouth from withdrawing completely.

Simon started again, inching his mouth further down the thick shaft. Wayne gasped loudly when the final fraction of his cock vanished from sight and the sucking lips met his pubic bush, meeting the damp spunk Simon had shot earlier.

'That's great, Simon. Fucking fantastic!' praised Wayne.

'Uhm!' a satisfied Simon mumbled, now comfortable with the cock's length and girth, now keen to bring Wayne off and swallow the wealth of white spunk.

Whilst Wayne's palms explored Simon's back, chest and neck, so Simon increased his movement up and down the slippery shaft. Simultaneously, he was vigorously pumping his own cock, a wealth of virgin spunk already rising up the shaft but held back ready for release at the precise moment his mouth filled with Wayne's delicious spunk.

Simon felt two palms grip his head tightly. There was little point in him struggling. Wayne was far too strong. Anyway, he was completely engrossed with his own spunk about to shoot from his cock. And the excitement that Wayne's spunk would not be far behind his own, made him relish the frantic thrusting into his pretty face even more.

Wayne continued to thrust his cock with great satisfaction into the sensational depths of the soft, hot tunnel. 'I'm coming!' he grunted, gripping Simon's head tightly, preventing the mouth escaping his torrent of spunk when it let loose. 'There she blows!' he yelped with a shudder when his own Moby Dick began to spout liquid.

'Uhm!' delighted Simon, spittle and spunk dribbling from his mouth and over his lips and chin when he gulped down the welcome evening meal. He gasped when his own second whack of spunk sailed from his cock and over the rubber matting, an incredible sensation surging throughout his being, sending his brain spinning in a euphoria the likes of which he had never known before as it jettisoned.

The ringing bell to change lessons startled Simon from his daydreams. His hand was buried inside his trouser pocket and gripping his stiff cock through the hole. An unmistakable wet patch was apparent.

Sniggers from two girls in the back row met Simon's ears as his brain began to clear. Instantly his face brightened. Speedily, he pulled his palm from his pants. Almost immediately, his face erupted like a volcano and his forehead began to perspire. He hadn't been caught tossing himself off in class again, had he?

'Next lesson, boys and girls. Go quietly. I said 'quietly',' yelled the maths teacher when voices began to rise in chatter. The girls behind Simon huddled in a group and continued to snigger.

Simon stuffed his books into his rucksack and legged it from the classroom and toward the gym, his face still burning bright. Even his ears were red!

A bunch of boys and youths jostled each other and burst in front of him when they charged into the gym's changing room. A hefty shove from Wayne almost sent him bowling over.

Despite all the usual mayhem, the changing room was Simon's favourite place in the school. In fact, the only place in the school he liked, the place where he could observe naked youths, a place to compare bodies, pubic hair, cocks and bottoms, a place that provided him with many nightly wank fantasies but, also, a place that could hold unknown horrors.

As usual, Simon tried desperately to concentrate on his own disrobing and dressing rather than the scrumptious half-naked bodies covered in sexy or not so sexy sports kit. Somehow, he found it immensely pleasing to observe youths much older than himself who were not as gifted in the cock department, especially if they hadn't even sprouted pubic hair.

Simon never made fun of those less well endowed than him. Indeed, he was very aware that a good few of those hairless, small-cocked, pretty youths had provided him with regular wanking material, regular imaginary fucks and blow jobs. However, Wayne was not so kind to them and often gave them hell. For the life of him, Simon just couldn't figure out why he found the bastard so attractive, such a horny guy.

'So what do you do over there on Walton's mountain, Applegate?' mocked Wayne, who had never in his life ventured into the countryside, and was so thick he wouldn't have known a stallion from a mare even if it were trying to shag him.

Simon tore Wayne's hand from his head and continued dressing, ignoring the bully's sarcasm of where he lived, although he knew Jim Bob Walton would have been more than welcome up on Devil's Mound with him, and he had been his imaginary companion on many a Sunday afternoon's secret cornfield toss.

'Probably wanks horses,' Wayne's bully mate butted in.

'Gives them blow jobs, more like.' Wayne laughed, gripping the back of Simon's head, then pushing him to his knees and shoving his cock into his face.

Simon breathed in the mustiness of the Head Boy's cock before pulling back. He was certain it was a good deal firmer than it should have been for a straight lad, and was a little surprised. Desperately he fought off the stiffy rising in his own shorts. It most surely would have given him away, given Wayne and his louts the ammunition they were searching for.

'Fuck off, Wayne!' Simon verbally fought back as convincingly as he could, but still unable to get up from the floor and away from his grip.

'Cowboys get young calves to blow them,' said a waif of a lad who was dressed in a pair of shorts almost as large as himself, which actually came up to his armpits when he nervously hoisted them higher.

'Piss off you little prick. What do you know about anything, pencil cock!' barked the second bully, giving Tadpole, who had anything but a pencil cock, a good slap around the head.

'Come on, fruit. Show us how you blow those horses,' said Wayne, pulling Simon's mouth back into his ever-expanding cock.

'He is a fruit, Wayne,' said Tadpole, attempting to curry favour and save himself from more abuse. 'He's an APPLEgate,' he chortled.

'I told you to fuck off, kid, or you'll be sucking this yourself!' cursed Wayne.

Watkins suddenly bounced into the changing room, jogging on the spot. Wayne turned swiftly away and pretended to be doing something else. Tadpole pulled his shorts from beneath his armpits, until they reached his waist and the hems touched his ankles.

'Right. Into the gym, boys. Warm up before football practice,' Watkins enthusiastically sang, like some PE teacher-come-soprano-ballet-dancer, whilst still bouncing on the spot.

For the next ten minutes, Simon and the rest of the youths did circuit training. As always, it was climbing the rope that proved the most difficult for Simon. Or so it would seem? As always, his failings did not go unnoticed by Watkins.

Watkins blew his whistle and began to sing and bounce again. 'Right, my beauties. Football practice. Go!'

Simon let the rope swing away and headed quickly for the door with the rest of the bunch. The sound of his name echoing around the emptying gym stopped him in his tracks. Speedily, he doubled over to the jovial PE teacher.

Watkins slung a friendly arm over Simon's shoulders. 'Applegate, my lad. How can I ever have you on my football team when you can't even complete a circuit?'

Simon shrugged his shoulders. In all honesty, he couldn't give a toss about being in a bloody team. He hated football and almost any other sport where balls were kicked, hit or tossed into baskets. What's more, Watkins had forgotten that this would be his last gym session, as he was leaving school at the end of the week. For sure, he would not be joining the village football team that Watkins coached either.

'Wayne, me boy,' Watkins called over to his favourite footballer, who was stowing gym equipment. 'Stay here with Applegate and teach him how to climb a rope, will you?'

'Sir!' complained Wayne, his expression angry as he studied Simon, who had a cunning kind of grin on his face. 'You always choose me.'

'Only until he makes it to the top, okay?' Watkins compromised as he ballet-danced from the gym and out onto the sports field. 'Thanks, Wayne?' he called back.

Wayne looked decidedly pissed off. 'Right, Applegate. You bloody-well better get your scrawny little arse up this fucking rope,' he cursed. 'Because if I miss my football practice, I'll shove my boot or something else up your arse!'

'I'll try, Wayne. But I can't seem to get a good hold. I keep on slipping down,' Simon explained, a hint of devilment in his expression.

'Okay, I'll show you how it's done. Watch my feet and legs,' said Wayne, stretching his wonderful, half-naked torso high, grasping the sweat-blackened rope in his fairly large, unbelievably strong hands. Simon's heart began to race excitedly as he moved beneath the climbing Wayne and looked up his shorts.


Ken Smith

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